22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

I t was late at night when they pulled up at the front of the packhouse. Layla was still numb from Jackson's revelations.

Did Jackson mean there was a wolf inside her? This thing that took her over and made her do stupid things? It was like a separate entity, a personality that was the complete opposite of who she was.

"It can't be true," she whispered.

If Jackson had no explanation, then he had to be wrong. It had to be the baby changing her since Jackson had said it would be a werewolf.

But all of this had started before she'd got pregnant. She'd seen the red wolf throughout her childhood.

So it was true? Would she turn into a beast like him? What would the pack do to her if they found out?

So many questions but she didn't know what to ask first. Her whole life had changed at the drop of a hat. Some things made more sense now, while others became more confusing. Was Britney the same as her? Had she also grown up keeping all the weird things that happened to her to herself?

And the biggest question she had was if this meant her mother hadn't abandoned them willingly. Had something forced her to leave her two little girls behind?

This thought stuck in her head even though she didn't want to have her hopes raised. Maybe her mother had her reasons for leaving but the impact on their lives had been devastating. She didn't know how to feel about that.

By the time she realised that she was in Jackson's room, not the little room in the basement, dawn was breaking. She'd been sitting on his couch all night, and Jackson hadn't returned to talk. She didn't even know if he had locked his door again, keeping her prisoner even after that bombshell he had dropped on her.

The house was silent, and for a change, the voice in her head was quiet as well. There were no whispers, even though she could pick up a little movement outside the house. She knew it was from the guards without having to get up to look outside. Their patrols were regular. When she'd been stuck in the basement, the sound of their footsteps had even been a little comforting.

Her ears picked up something else. The front door opening and closing. Jackson's scent. His quiet footsteps coming up the stairs.

She stood quickly and faced the door to wait for him. When she heard the key in the door, her heart twisted. So she was still a prisoner after all. Nothing had changed for Jackson.

"You should be resting. You're pregnant; you can't be up all night," Jackson said when he opened the door.

Which meant that he had sensed her just as easily as she had sensed him. They were the same, after all.

"How do you expect me to sleep after what you told me?"

Jackson sighed and headed towards the bathroom.

"I'm tired, so I can't do this right now. I had to make sure we weren't followed because, as I've told you before, the pack is my responsibility," Jackson said. "We won't survive another attack."

And just like that, the guilt bubbled up in her again. A few hours away from the packhouse had lightened her burden for a little while but there was no escaping it. Jackson's revelation made her forget everything else, and it made her feel selfish. How could she think of herself when other people had lost their lives because of her? How could this be the thing on her mind when Jackson had whisked her and Britney away from the hotel because they had been in danger?

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Jackson stopped at the bathroom door and turned to look at her with a little frown on her face. She remembered when he had started to smile at her all the time, but she knew that wouldn't happen again.

"Go to sleep. Things will look better when we've rested."

He looked as tired as she felt. Layla nodded, walked over to the suitcase that had been carried in for her, and pulled out a set of pyjamas. She had every intention of waiting for Jackson to come out of the bathroom after she climbed onto his huge bed, but her eyes started to close the moment she put her head down.

When she opened her eyes again, Jackson was gone, the room was bright, and the sounds of the pack were all around her.

She sat up and listened. Only the day before, Dylan had been complaining that no one wanted to come to the packhouse to train anymore. Now, from all the activity, it seemed like that had changed. Was the threat of the Hunters that great? She would have thought fighting other wolves would be worse than fighting a bunch of humans, no matter what Jackson said about them. Why would anyone as ferocious as the beasts she had seen run from a human?

Someone had already brought her some food when she came out of the bathroom. She wolfed it all down even though she didn't have much appetite and then waited for Jackson to return. Surely she would still be allowed out for some fresh air?

But when the sun set, she was still waiting by the window. And she kept waiting. Jackson didn't come back to the bedroom until dawn.

"You can't keep doing this, Layla. You need to rest," Jackson growled, making a beeline to the bathroom again.

He looked even more tired than before.

"Am I still a prisoner here?" she asked.

Jackson stopped at the bathroom door but didn't turn to face her. She sensed his hesitation, as if he didn't want to speak to her. Was she the reason he was staying out all night?

"You're not a prisoner, but it's not safe for you out there," he answered.

"You said this was the safest place," she pointed out as she stood from the seat at the window to walk to him.

Jackson tensed visibly. He didn't want her near him?

"It will be the safest place. I just have a few things to iron out," he said and then walked into the bathroom.

The whispers had been worse that day. Jackson's pack gossipped more than a group of old women. They didn't want her with them, and she was somehow being blamed for this new threat when she didn't even really understand what a Hunter was.

She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. Jackson couldn't keep avoiding her. He was supposed to show her how she could control the things happening to her, and he was supposed to give her more answers about what she was.

When Jackson walked out of the bathroom, she was wide awake. And if she hadn't been, seeing him with only a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping down his body would have woken her right up. The air sizzled instantly. So much heat coursed through her veins that she had to squeeze her thighs together, and she wasn't even sure if this was her reaction or this wolf side of her that Jackson said she had.

Jackson stopped, and their gazes met. His eyes flashed red before he cleared his throat and looked away.

"I don't have the answers you need," Jackson said. "I'm still looking. You should have been okay for another two or three decades."

He cleared his throat again.

"Go to sleep."

But his eyes flashed again, and his body reacted underneath the towel. Her mouth dried up when she lowered her gaze. Though her head was quiet, this had to be that other side of her. The side that wanted Jackson above everything else. The side that ignored everything going on around her the moment Jackson came close. It felt like there was a rope between them, pulling her towards him.

Jackson closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, they were red. And for some reason, that excited her more. He'd told her that her eyes flashed when she couldn't control her emotions, so that had to be the same for him. He couldn't control this.

Jackson whipped the towel off and walked towards her. By the time she was naked and on her back on the bed, her mind had already exploded a million times. Why did he affect her like that when the other wolves didn't?

Jackson ate her out as if he was starving. She fell over the edge over and over again until her voice was hoarse. Until she couldn't take it anymore. And only then did he lift his face from between her legs and rise over her. She'd been wrong. She took more. She took much more as Jackson thrust into her, and the madness overtook them both. Her voice was hoarse, and her body was just a trembling mess when she fell over the cliff the last time.

Jackson tensed and grunted her name before his hot seed filled her.

And then, before she stopped trembling, he pulled out of her and got off the bed. She watched him grab his towel and cover himself up before he turned to look at her. His eyes were no longer red.

"This doesn't change anything. I may not be able to stop this," he growled, "but that doesn't mean I've forgotten what you did. I'll find out what you are, but you'll still have to leave when the baby is born."

And then he walked back into the bathroom, leaving her body cold.